


W.Y.C.M.

by orphan_account



Series: 27 [2]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-16 16:18:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4631862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The guys find out what Pete Wentz has been up to, which ends up adding to the already high tensions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	W.Y.C.M.

**Author's Note:**

> Prequel to "What a Catch, I'm the Best You'll Ever Have".

It wasn't supposed to go this way. The tour wasn't supposed to get stressful, going on stage wasn't supposed to be their worst nightmare, because it reminded them they had to do everything they just did, again tomorrow. Everyday lately has been filled with an unpleasant surprise.  
  
  
Of course all would have been possibly alright if that  _little incident_  hadn't happened. They all knew Pete was getting depressed, again. He's not ever been one for timing, but this was the absolute worst time to have a nervous breakdown. One week before the tour ended, on a single bus with three other guys. They all knew he'd been taking more of his medication, especially the way he said he _needed it_. That if he  _didn't have it, he wouldn't be able to go on stage._  
  
  
Due to the unending stress and schedule of it all, the boys haven't at all been able to just take a breather and have a mental health break. To be frank, no one wanted to deal with anyone's shit right now. They were only dealing with it in the bare minimum, no matter how they felt, they weren't going to leave Pete hanging.   
  
  
~~~~~~  
  
  
The incident that made this all turn from fun, to actual  _work_ was the night Joe saw Pete's arm, after they had gotten off stage and jackets removed, if not already off from stage. The four are in the hallway that has all their dressing rooms in a row, saying  _good show_  and other things you'd say after a high like the crowd that night.   
  
  
Joe had gone to high-five Pete when he saw it. His hand froze and his eyes bugged like he just saw a monster.  _He didn't know the half of it._ Pete had forgotten the activities he'd been initiating the past month,  _one moment like this_ , he always told himself,  _would change it all_. He tried to stay so aware of which angle the camera caught, what the fans saw when he was signing their items, he had been doing a flawless job of being casual sly with everyone up until that goddamned high-five. They all went quiet, and Joe stood eyes still wide, ironically, it took Pete the longest to notice what the freeze was about.  
  
  
"Pete, what are those on your arm?" Patrick asks cautiously. The sweat on Pete's back doubles in a matter of seconds, his brain tries to think up the slickest excuse,  _Hemingway was stepping on me, and I haven't done his claws in a long time. It was somebody's cat._  He couldn't use any of the lawyer skills his grew up knowing, his mind for once stopped and said,  _tell the truth, they should know, before you do something stupid, we all know you will sooner or later._  
  
  
"It's uh, it's...." He crosses his arms, trying to take this whole scene away, and rewind it.   
  
  
"Did you do that?" He looks at the ground and tears fall on the concrete. Pete makes a few choked noises trying to make a word, but just turns around and bolts into his dressing room, locking the door behind him. He sits down on the couch and rests his elbows on his knees, hands covering his face.  _Fuck, what did I do? I wasn't supposed to bring them into this. It wasn't supposed to be like this._  Pete cries uncontrollably convulsing at every time he thought to what brought him here, how bad he fucked up. All his lies, his cowardice, everything he'd been hiding from every single person in his life, the people he loved.  
  
  
After some time, Patrick knocks on the door.  
  
  
"Pete, can I come in?" He asks softly.  
  
  
"You don't have to see me like this." Pete says through tears. He swears he's going to cry out all the water in his body.  
  
  
"I want to help you, please let me in." Pete grabs a tissue from the box on the table, wiping his face and hands off before opening the door. Patrick goes right for a hug, holding him tight and warm, rubbing his back.  
  
  
"I'm so sorry." Pete sobs to his best-friend, over and over.  
  
  
"Shhh, you don't have to be sorry." Patrick breaks the hug, but still leaving his hands on Pete's shoulders, he guides him back to the couch after shutting the door. They sit in silence for a few moments, before Patrick starts off, gingerly. "Pete, why have you been doing that?" Patrick tries to look him in the eyes, but Pete won't look anywhere that isn't his hands as he taps his fingers on his thumb, trying to calm down.  
  
  
"You know how I get...."   
  
  
  
"You know that isn't a good enough answer. What has changed that made you feel like you had to do that?" Patrick is keeping composed, in a very counselor manner, asking every question as if he's defusing a bomb.  
  
  
"I don't know. I've been on my medication, and I keep taking more, and skipping, and stopping for a few days. No matter how I dose it, I still get how I get. I just feel like it isn't doing it for me anymore, maybe I have to change it, or maybe my talent at proving everything wrong is just so deep-set that even chemicals can't change it. This wasn't supposed to get found out, I wasn't supposed to drag you guys down with me." Pete wipes his face, hardly crying now.  
  
  
"Pete, you know we aren't just band-mates, we're your friends, a second family, even. We're supposed to be here for each others. You guys cheer me up about my self-esteem issues, so we are here to help you through this."  
  
  
"I know, but it's really hard to talk to someone when you're doing something this stupid to yourself. It's pride or something. I'm so embarrassed about this. I feel like a kid or something for having this talk, being found out so easily...."  
  
  
"It's alright, don't be embarrassed, you should never be embarrassed about your feelings." They let the room stay silent for a few moments, not skipping ahead in the conversation unless both have said everything that needs to be said on the subject. "Do you want to go back to therapy?" Pete takes a deep breath and weighs his options.  
  
  
"I guess I should. I'm not sure if I want to, but since we'll be getting back to home soon, I probably should. I don't want to drag the band down, especially before going to work on our new album, I don't want to be selfish, again."  
  
  
"You're not selfish, trust me, you're not even close. Do you want me to call your old therapist for you?" Patrick offers.  
  
  
"No, I think I should get a different one. I feel like I'm too different from the person my last one knew, it'd probably be better to start fresh. I'll look for some soon."  
  
  
"That's a good idea." Patrick lets out a sigh. "Are you feeling better?" Pete shrugs.  
  
  
"I think I might be. I think it feels better to have this all out there. Thank you, Patrick, I don't deserve a friend like you"  
  
  
"Yes you do. All of us are going to help you through this, okay? Please if you ever feel the urge, I'm sure at all times there is at least going to be one of us that can help you." Patrick side-hugs Pete once more before standing up. "So what do you use?" Pete gets up, and digs through his bag. He pulls out a journal, and opens it, taking a razor blade out from between the pages. Pete turns around and hands it to Patrick, he puts it into his pocket to dispose of as soon as possible.  
  
  
"You know I could always get something else."  
  
  
"I know, but this will give you more time to think about what you're doing, if you don't have something right there. And please tell me you'll try to stop, even if it's hard?"  
  
  
"I will."  
  
  
"Okay. Do you want me to stay?"  
  
  
"Nah, I'm good right now, I know we'll be getting back on the bus soon." Pete's face finally brightens up. "Please don't tell anyone but Joe and Andy, I don't want this getting out."  
  
  
"I won't. I'll tell them the same." Patrick smiles at Pete with the most concerned, but hopeful smile he's ever seen before he leaves the room.  
  
  
~~~~~~  
  
  
They all made sure they kept an eye on Pete, and he hasn't cut at all since the talk, barely even thought of it, but everything still was just more alert. They certainly needed the time off, they would get two months before going to the studio to record their new album, and after that more touring.   
  
  
Pete had managed to find a new therapist in Illinois, and sent an email, receiving a reply. He'll be seeing them in just under a month.   
  
  
On the last night of the tour, after they are all loading onto the bus. The tensions are rather high despite the fact that they'll all be home and by nighttime tomorrow. Pete stays off to the side, his mind has been whirling, flashes of feelings from what brought him to his habit in the first place.  _Look, you act so helpless, you're not even telling them how you feel. You know it would be better if you went over there and distracted yourself. But no, Pete Wentz loves to sulk, loves to look like the profound dark and brooding type._ That voice in his head laughs. Pete sighs.  
  
  
Patrick sees this, and walks over to Pete.   
  
  
"Could you help us?" He asks, irritated.  
  
  
"Oh, sorry. I was just thinking." Pete blinks his eyes, halfway snapping out of this trance.  
  
  
"About what?"  
  
  
"Nothing. Don't worry about it."  
  
  
"It's never 'nothing' with you, tell me."  
  
  
"It's still nothing." Patrick's face goes blank.  
  
  
"Are you fucking serious? I told you to fucking tell us when you're feeling like shit, and you're just going to lie to me?"  
  
  
"Patrick, relax, I'm sorry. I'm alright."  
  
  
"I'm not in the mood for your shit tonight, if you're just going to be like that."  
  
  
"Well you don't have to 'deal with my shit' tonight, okay, fuck off." Pete regrets those words the second they go out of his mouth.  
  
  
"'Fuck off'? Really Pete? 'Fuck off'?" A few glances go their way from Patrick raising his voice. Andy pauses watching closely, always known to be the one to either fight, or break up one. "I've been here to listen to you since however fucking long, and look, you need someone, but you just tell them to 'fuck off'. You're just here to bitch, and ignore the people that  _love you_ , and all you have to say about it is--"  
  
  
"Patrick calm the fuck down, I'm fucking sorry for saying that, I could change the wording but I still mean the same thing if you're going to be like this."   
  
  
"Wow, thank you for making me feel appreciated."   
  
  
"You want appreciation? I would really  _appreciate_ , if you, you know." Pete waves his hands for Patrick to go away. Patrick takes a swing at him, missing, but going for it again. Pete gets hit in the arm, and starts fighting back. He manages to get Patrick once in the nose, hard enough that it will be bruised, but not hard enough for it to bleed, before Andy and Joe run over, Andy taking Pete's arms without effort, and Joe doing the same to Patrick.  
  
  
"What the fuck is going on with you two?" Andy inquires.  
  
  
"Patrick was getting all pissy--" Pete starts.  
  
  
"I was getting pissy? Yeah, I was the one moping in the fucking corner--"  
  
  
"Both of you, shut up, and calm the hell down. We have a couple more things to load, we can be on the bus in ten minutes, and we can all talk it out in there, okay?" More of a demand than request.  
  
  
"He doesn't want to talk to me." Patrick spits out.  
  
  
"Then we'll do this like mediation. Joe will talk to Patrick, and I'll talk to Pete. We don't need to end on a shitty note, because we all know we probably won't be talking to each other at first when we get home. Now let's get this shit done, without fists." After the boys are released, Andy stays near Pete, and Joe near Patrick while they load the bus. No one talks at first, nor once they get on the bus.  
  
  
The air stays negative, and Pete and Patrick are holding the longest grudge between each other, ever, due to unreasonable stubbornness from the both of them. Once they're all home, still nothing had been said. All are off to their own corners. At least they all have each others cell-phone numbers, just in case. Pete stays at his parents house the first couple of nights, before going to his own small apartment not too far away. He doesn't mention the cutting, the therapy, or the fight. He doesn't want to drag his family into this after he caused all that trouble in the band.  
  
  
No word from anybody for the next week. He wants to call Patrick, but he's still got a little pride. He's more  _ashamed_  of the pride than anything.  _You won't even apologize to your best-friend. Pathetic. I'm sure he doesn't even care about you._  Pete digs himself another grave, and just wallows in all he  _could_  be doing.  ** _Just have to wait three more weeks, and I can work this out with a therapist...._**   _Have fun waiting._


End file.
